Obsession

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

THE NEXT WEEK was torture. Every time the phone rang, every time her office door opened, every time Emma saw a gray-haired man walking down the sidewalk, she’d go weak. She stopped eating and stopped sleeping. By Friday morning, she’d aged five years and lost ten pounds.

The currency committee met early. As the clock struck ten, the report was delivered to the bank, the new rate set and ready to be announced. She waited for Chris to step away from his desk and head for the men’s room as he did every day before lunch, then Emma slipped into his office. With trembling fingers, she picked up the committee’s bulletin and scanned it rapidly.

It should have been harder, she thought, returning to her own office several minutes later. Breaking the law, ruining her life, giving up everything she’d worked for the past two-plus years, should have been more difficult. With just a few keystrokes, though, it was all over, the irrevocable plan set into motion as she deposited Kelman’s money into an open account.

The enormity of her actions soaked in a few minutes later. She raced to the bathroom and threw up the only thing she’d put in her stomach for days-the cup of tea she’d had for breakfast-retching and coughing until there was nothing left inside her. Sitting weakly on the floor of the bathroom, she rested her forehead against the cold porcelain edge of the toilet. Needing more strength than she would have ever dreamed necessary, she finally rose up and staggered to the basin.

She looked worse than the Quechua on the corner, she thought, staring in the bathroom mirror. Who was the tormented woman reflected in the glass, her eyes so empty and flat?

Emma turned away from the reflection and began to scrub her hands. She couldn’t wash away her thoughts, though. Reaching for a towel, she dried her fingers and brought the damp cloth to her forehead, patting it feebly.

She’d just sacrificed her future to keep her children safe. It was the ultimate irony, she thought, shaking her head. To protect them, she’d had to give away any chance she’d ever have to be with them again. To have a normal life, to be their mother. She’d flushed it all away, and no one would ever understand why. No one but Raul.

She gripped the edge of the counter and swayed slightly. His life was at stake, too, and even though she knew she should hate him for what he’d done, she couldn’t. She actually understood. But that didn’t mean she could forgive him. He’d used her and nothing would ever make that right.

Nothing.

She made one more swipe across her face with the towel, then dropped it on the counter and reached into her pocket for the tube of lipstick she’d brought with her. The slash of color she applied to her lips looked garish and overdone under the harsh fluorescence. She wiped some of it off, then tried again, but the result was the same. A made-up corpse would have looked better.

What did it matter? She left the bathroom, thinking the look was actually pretty appropriate. After all, that was what she was, wasn’t she? A walking dead woman?

She went straight to her desk, collected her purse, then told Felicity she was leaving.

“See you Monday,” the receptionist said.

Emma stared at the woman for a few seconds, then turned and walked out of the lobby without saying a word. See you Monday? She didn’t think so.

In a nauseous daze, she flagged down the first cab she could. When she reached her house, she went inside and headed for the living room. She made only one stop-at the chest just inside the room. She opened the top drawer and reached inside, her shaking hands gripping the package she’d hidden there a few days before.

Taking the first chair she came to, she sat down to wait. It wouldn’t take long, she was sure.

SLOUCHED BEHIND the wheel of a beat-up red Passport outside the bank, Raul straightened as he saw Emma leave. He glanced at his watch in surprise. It was early-barely lunchtime. Emma never left before six. Was it finally going down?

In the past week, he’d actually watched Emma fade. She’d lost a visible amount of weight, and the circles under her eyes had grown darker and darker. She looked like a ghost as she drifted down the sidewalk and held out her hand to hail a taxi. Her dark dress hung on her like a sack, and her skin had a greenish hue.

He hadn’t tried to approach her. She’d made it more than clear that she didn’t want him in her life, but that wasn’t how it was going to end. He couldn’t let it stop like that. Not after realizing that he loved her, even though he knew he shouldn’t.

At first, he’d considered storming Kelman’s house and confronting him-preferably with a loaded.45. After he’d calmed down, Raul had realized that kind of action would have been satisfying but useless. The man had put something into motion already, and if Raul killed him, who knew how it would end? He couldn’t go to him now. Instead, he’d stuck with Emma. Kelman would eventually show up, and if Raul stayed with her, he’d make sure she was safe.

She wasn’t aware of it, but he’d known where she was and what she was doing since he’d left her house last week. He’d even slept in the car outside her house at night, changing the rentals every day so there’d be no chance she’d recognize the vehicle.

When Kelman came, Raul would be ready.

Raul put the SUV in gear and joined the flow of movement, heading away from the bank, to follow the path of her taxi. There was a lot of traffic on the street already, and he had trouble keeping the vehicle in view. A short time later, it headed toward her neighborhood, and he dropped back some more. She wouldn’t recognize the rental he was driving, but the extra distance would make sure she didn’t see him.

She climbed out of the cab as soon as it stopped, paying the driver through the window before she turned and headed up the sidewalk. Parking down the street, Raul watched her stride toward the gate, an empty feeling of loss echoing deep inside him.

Darkness came early, a spring storm brewing. Under the cover of the cloudy sky, Raul slipped from the truck an hour later, reaching the house of Emma’s neighbor a few seconds after that. In the silence, he glanced around, then jumped straight up, his fingers barely making the edge of the tall, stuccoed wall. Scrambling over the top, he let go and fell into their yard, a hard thud accompanying his landing. He grunted, then rolled to his feet.

The people who lived in the house were gone; he’d seen them load their car the day before with enough suitcases to last a month. The live-in maid had waved goodbye, and two minutes after they’d driven away, she’d disappeared, as well. The house was empty.

Creeping through the heavy underbrush that lined the perimeter of the wall, Raul advanced stealthily to the rear of the garden. His plan was simple. Wait in Emma’s yard. It was the only way he could see Kelman’s arrival if he came in the back way-and he would. Kelman never approached anything head-on. The frustration Raul felt at not being able to do this sooner had been driving him crazy.

In the wall that separated the two houses, a series of decorative cutouts was carved, iron grillwork filling the spaces. Raul had seen the openings the night Emma had brought him into her backyard, but he hadn’t realized until now how clearly they showed her whole house from this angle. Glancing over now through the one closest to the street, he could see straight into her living room. He stopped abruptly and stared.

She was sitting in the room.

His breathing rasped in the hushed humid air, the sound as rapid as his heartbeat. Emma looked like a statue in contrast, carved and cold. She sat immobile, her blinking eyes her only motion. In her lap, her fingers were knit together. She might have been holding something, but he really couldn’t tell.

His throat burned, and all at once, he wanted to leap over the wall and tell her he was there and nothing could make him leave. He wanted to tell her he was sorry.

He wanted to tell her he loved her.

Lifting his hands, Raul wound his fingers in the lacy grillwork. The metal bars framed Emma, as if she was in a prison, and he shuddered as the idea burned into his brain.

A moment later, something heavy crashed into the side of his head. Raul collapsed into the grass, the night spinning around him.

THE MONKEY NEXT DOOR screamed, and Emma started, the heavy weapon almost rolling off her lap. She caught the gun at the last minute, her fingers closing around it reflexively, her nails digging into the rubber grip to leave half-moon marks of anxiousness. The animal frequently howled for no reason. As scary as the sound was, it signified nothing.

Telling herself to relax, she leaned back against the chair, her shoulders stiff and tight. Rotating the muscles first one way and then the other, she started to take a deep breath, then she froze. There was someone in the hallway of her house. The muffled step and corresponding creak of the board resounded in Emma’s heart. The monkey’s cry had obscured his entrance. Her pulse faltered when she heard the sound again. It was louder this time.

She was out of her chair and standing when he stepped into the doorway. They stared at each other for five seconds, Kelman’s eyes angry and cold, Emma matching his look, her determination fierce. He opened his mouth to speak, but she didn’t wait.

She raised the gun and fired.

Incredibly, she missed. With the deafening sound of the shot still echoing around the room, Kelman recovered with a scream and lunged toward her. Before she could fire again, he was beside her. He grabbed the barrel of the gun and jerked it from her. A sickening wave of fear rolled over her as she felt the weapon leave her grasp.

“What in hell do you think you’re doing?” He clutched the pistol, holding it out of her reach.

“You damn near killed me!”

“That was my plan!” Her chest heaved, her breath coming fast. “Did you think I would let you blackmail me, threaten my children-ruin my life-and get away with it?”

“Ruin your life? What do you call what you’ve done to me?”

He was panting with the effort of disarming her, yet his glare was so cold, so chilling, she felt a shiver go up her back. If she’d needed any confirmation, this was it. He knew what she had done.

“I can’t be responsible for changes in the market.”

He shook his head like an angry bull. “The market didn’t change. You deliberately traded that money the wrong way. You bought dollars, and you should have bought bolivianos. You knew what was going on, and you went the wrong way on purpose.”

“Not according to the change order you signed. You told me to buy dollars. I have it in writing.” She stared at him steadily, while inside she was quivering.

His eyes narrowed into two angry slits. “I didn’t sign any such order and you know it.”

“Maybe I do,” she said slowly, “but no one else will. I have a signed order, and it’s locked in my desk.”

Her words took up all the space between them and filled the tense silence. After a moment, he shook his head, a gleam approaching admiration coming into his cold gaze.

“You planned this, didn’t you? The trade, my anger…this.” He lifted the gun, and the metal caught the light and glinted malevolently. “You were going to tell the police I was angry over the trade and broke in here. That you killed me in self-defense.” He shook his head. “I’d almost be impressed, Emma, except it didn’t quite pan out, did it?”

“The night’s not over yet,” she said.

“That’s the first thing you’ve been right about all evening.”

He smiled, and something skittered down her back again, something cold and truly fearful. Refusing to give him the pleasure of seeing her fright, Emma held herself stiff and gazed back.

“Let’s go upstairs.” He looked at the gun and tossed it onto the sofa, clearly having other plans.

“It’s time for this farce to end…”

HE WASN’T OUT but a second; the smell of dirt brought him quickly to his senses. Rolling over, then standing in one quick motion, Raul came up fighting, his fist connecting solidly with his very first punch.

A grunt sounded, then a whoosh of air flew by his jaw as a swing was delivered. It came a moment too late to land, and Raul ducked instinctively. He was fighting a shadow, but he didn’t really care. Whoever it was, he meant to stop Raul, and Raul couldn’t let that happen. He feinted left and struck right. Again the hit connected, and the dark outline of a man pitched backward. Raul threw himself on top of his attacker and struck out blindly, his knuckles scraping over the thick whiskered jaw time and time again. The man cried out and raised his arms, but it was a useless attempt to protect himself. Raul continued to pummel until his fist gleamed wetly in the darkness and the other man whimpered, curling into a ball in the grass at his feet.

Raul pulled back, his chest heaving, his gasps loud and painful in the pitch-black garden. He took three deep breaths, then scrambled to his feet and pulled the man up with him by his collar. Dragging him to the front of the yard, Raul recognized him instantly.

It was Kelman’s drunk, the man who’d put the bug in Emma’s purse. Raul cursed soundly. “I should have killed you when I had the chance.” He jerked the man around and started to pat him down. In his pocket he found an ancient.38, a replacement for the one Raul had taken from him before. With another curse, Raul pulled the weapon out and stuck it in the waistband of his pants. “What in hell do you think you’re doing?”

The minute his mind cleared, Raul understood, not needing an answer to his question. Kelman had brought the man with him as a precaution in case someone unexpected showed up at Emma’s. Someone like Raul. A flash of white rage swept through him as the implication sunk in.

The drunk read Raul’s expression and his face collapsed with fear. He cried out and reached up to pry Raul’s fingers from his shirt collar, but he wasn’t fast enough.

Cocking his fist, Raul reared back then smashed his knuckles into the man’s jaw, every ounce of force and rage he had stored up for Kelman behind the punch. It landed squarely with a loud crack, pain ricocheting up Raul’s arm and into his shoulder. He never even noticed. Instantly the drunk’s body went slack, and Raul let it drop like the useless bag of garbage it was. He never looked back as he ran.

KELMAN’S PRONOUNCEMENT took a moment to soak in. When it did, Emma started shaking her head and backing up. He took a step toward her and grabbed her by the elbow, his fingers biting into her flesh. He pulled her into the hall and said roughly, “You don’t have a choice in this one. You’ve used up all your chances.”

She struggled against him, kicking and lashing out, but it did no good. He was strong and he was angry. Hauling her toward the stairs, he started upward, and she had to follow or fall down and be dragged. They reached the top and he turned right to go into her bedroom. He pushed her into the room and slammed the door shut, a finality to the action that made her turn weak.

“Get in there,” he said, tilting his head toward her bathroom.

Again, she didn’t move, and this time when he grabbed her, he was even more violent. His fingers locked around her upper arm with a bruising force, and swearing loudly, he pushed her into the bathroom, throwing her to the hard marble floor once they stepped inside. She watched as he reached into his pocket.

When he yanked his hand back out, he held a small plastic bottle. He pitched it at her, and she raised her hands in defense, catching it at the very last minute.

It was a common medicine vial from the farmacia around the corner. Like all the pharmaceutical shops located on every street in Santa Cruz, you could walk in and buy any drug you wanted. Most required no prescription. The label was written in Spanish, but a single word leaped out to Emma’s startled gaze. Valium.

From his coat pocket, he pulled out another bottle, and this one she recognized even before he tossed it to her. She dropped the pills into her lap and caught the bottle as it sailed toward her. It was a pint of vodka. She looked at him questioningly.

“You’ve been very depressed. Everyone at the office has noticed your weight loss, the bags under your eyes, the mistakes you’ve been making. They haven’t known why, but tomorrow, when the police ask, they’ll point out that you weren’t looking well.”

His eyes glittered in the darkness and his voice went deeper. “Your ex-husband will confirm everything. He knows how unstable you’ve been lately. The drugs and the alcohol won’t surprise him a bit.” Kelman shook his head. “It’ll be a shame, but everyone will understand since you had a little problem before. You didn’t have a choice. You missed your children and hated your job. Your only answer was suicide.”